Surbhi Sachdeva
Serrah had a cause,
She had a cause behind all that she did,
Governing the crime of her mistress,
Killing her, murdering her,
Driving her to death,
Sabotaging her being,
In the full swing.
Calling the darkest demons,
In the darkest hour,
And showing her the real power,
Serrah went too far,
To fetch the broken star,
All that bitterness was not just tar,
But a vengeful shower.
Serrah was the gainer,
She was profaner,
Nothing could be saner,
In the hometown of her life,
As she killed the mistress with the same knife,
along that abominable hype,
For this, she could only thrive.
Let alone the monsters sway,
How could the mistress send them away,
She now had no say,
Serrah had a cause,
Not even a little was she gay,
She had a hefty price to pay
Serrah anyway had to do this today.
The spattering of the rains,
The thundering of the clouds,
That whimpering with the closed mouth,
Always made the mistress aroused,
To target her enemy,
To shutter the house,
And make Serrah speak with her tongue out.
When Serrah was in dismay,
And the mistress was gay,
Serrah was treated in the most hapless way,
All she could dream of,
Was to hold it till she may,
And bandage the wounds of poor days,
Till she grew tardy with that stay.
Serrah could be strong too,
She had to be true,
To make the dream a full purview,
To make the hometown of her life new,
Even though the opportunities were few,
She had to take every possibility in lieu,
This decision was beneficial for her, she knew.
Not knowing the doomsday of this strife,
She had to end the mistress with the same knife,
The knife that could have killed her,
The knife that could have stopped her breath,
And could have led her to death,
She was bearing a lot at a stretch,
Now the only way was to murder the mistress.
Serrah was neither too old,
Nor too young,
But the hurdles that had her stunned,
Woke her up,
From the dungeon,
Led her straight to her heaven,
And when she opened her eyes, it was eleven.